


Six-Shooter

by IntrovertedWife



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Almost Kiss, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fun, Hilarity Ensues, One Shot, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrovertedWife/pseuds/IntrovertedWife
Summary: This is my first time writing for this fandom, but I adore the characters so much I wanted to play. It's a bunch of collections of shorts as they come to me.For the first one, Wynonna and Doc assault a vending machine. Hilarity ensues.





	Six-Shooter

“Doc?”

Wynonna turned a corner in the station, coffee mug in hand, to find Holliday attempting to beat the snot out of a vending machine. He twisted at her voice, those crystal blue eyes practically belching flames. “What are you doing?” she asked, bouncing her empty mug that badly needed a refill after that all-night revenant stalking Dolls insisted on.

Blowing his anger through the thick mustache, Doc snarled first at her, “I am attempting to alleviate my comestible from this,” he turned to the machine, “infernal box!” To bring it home, he smacked the glass once more.

“Oh,” she chuckled. “Did you remember to push the button?”

“Yes, _Wynonna_. I made my selection, I added in the correct change, and then this blight upon humanity refused to follow through in the transaction.”

Her eyes opened wide and she popped her lips, “Getting a bit tetchy there, Doc. You must really want those…” she peered to find a bag of fritos partially trapped upon the metal wheel, “chips bad.”

“It is no longer a question of hunger but honor.”

“Right, well,” she passed him her coffee cup. “Before you challenge the vending machine to a duel at high noon…”

Doc snorted at that, “As if any gunslinger worth his salt would be awake by then.”

Sliding in beside the vending machine and wall, Wynonna paused and glanced up at him. “Man after my own heart.” God, the lack of sleep and caffeine must have been doing her in, because she swore she saw a blush ripen on old Doc Holliday’s cheeks. Shaking it away, Wynonna placed both her hands upon the side of the machine.

“There’s a trick to this, not something immortals from the 1800s learn. You’ve got to…” she shoved into it, tipping the machine up off its feet for a second, “shake it!” Wynonna smiled wide while stepping back to find…the damn bag still lodged in place.

Doc blinked his baby blues a few more times, his lips falling open as he turned to her. “Is there another step in this modern miracle of yours?”

“Damn it!” she slammed the flat of her hand into the front, the stubborn thing refusing to fall. “That always works.” She tried the other side, jiggling it back and forth, then up and down, but nothing was coming out. Enraged, Wynonna put her boot up its ass. The kick smarted her toes, the damn machine remaining stoically in place, and those god damn chips taunting her.

“Perhaps I should go and ask Waverly? She seems to be more knowledgeable in such matters…” Doc began, his arms crossed.

Wynonna whipped her head at him, “I will get you the damn fritos!” Dropping to her knees, she shoved open the metal door and began to snake her arm upwards. It was a tight fit, but if she twisted to the side she could manage. Over the row of gum older than her, past the line of candy bars, Wynonna spotted the dangling bag taunting her.

Gritting her teeth, the metal door biting into her upper arm, Wynonna stretched as far as she could. “Come on, come on, come on!” The tip of her finger almost swiped against the edge, causing the bag to catch even higher.

“Doc!” she shouted, her head whipping back to the jaded gunslinger. “Get in here.”

“Are you certain there’d be enough room for the both of us?” he asked even while rolling up his sleeve and dipping to a knee beside her. Wynonna paid little attention as she was straining and swiping, her eyes glaring at that bag of chips. It would be hers!

“You reach in with your arm, bat the bag to me. I hit it lower, and maybe it’ll finally fall,” she said.

“I don’t know…”

“Trust me,” with her cheek planted against the glass, she stared up at the treasure, “I used to do this stuff all the time as a kid.”

“Very well,” he wiggled his left arm in through the same hole. Doc winced, one eye closed tight while the other…didn’t seem to drift from her for a second. He was maybe two to three inches away staring intently in her direction and she hadn’t thought to put on any makeup. Or even shower. Shit, when did she last shower?

God, she probably stank of revenants and demon blood, and that cow shit they were spreading out on the farm near the homestead.

And he smelled…

“I am in place,” Doc announced, shaking her from her thoughts.

“Good, now swing it to me,” she waffled on her haunches like a catcher waiting for the pitch. Doc’s larger hands easily batted the cruel chips right into Wynonna’s greedy fingers. This time she gripped them tight and, like a pro, spiked the bag straight down into the bin.

“Oh yeah!” she called, her free hand raising for a high five. Doc blinked in confusion. Immortal gunslinger from the old west, remember? Wynonna shook her hand to distract from the rejection.

Doc began to snake his arm down, managing to get a few inches free, when he paused. Those baby blues furrowed in concern. His free hand gripped onto the bicep of the trapped one and he tried to tug, but no dice. “While I am much obliged for you managing to procure my snack, I am wondering what in tarnation your plan was to get me out of this?!”

Laughing, Wynonna began to slide her hand out. It ruffled past the candy bars as she said, “Here. I’ll just…” Pain seeped into her bicep, something snagging on her skin that she hadn’t noticed at all on the way up. “No. No, no! Are you kidding me?!” She slapped into the vending machine, but it refused to give her back her rightful limb.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!” Wynonna cursed. She tried to twist around, even with her arm stuck, in order to give the damn thing another kick. Before she could get her foot out under her, she froze at the trickle of laughter rolling from Doc Holliday.

“It isn’t funny,” she muttered.

“The heir to Wyatt Earp with her arm ensnared inside of a food box? I beg to differ.”

“Oh, sure, it’s all…” she snarled, all her anger at missing a night of sleep and finding herself jammed inside a vending machine ready to lash out at Doc. Then she caught the scent of leather saddlebags, weathered tobacco, and whiskey aged in the deepest, darkest hole. Her cross tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, Wynonna trapped as she dove deeper into Doc’s bright blues.

Doc shifted in his caught stance, his free right hand sliding from the floor up Wynonna’s bent knee. Forgetting her own arm stuck feeling up the Milky Ways, she began to inch closer to Doc’s patient lips. No denying it, she often wondered what it’d be like kissing that much mustache. Or feeling it tickle elsewhere.

Both moved together, Wynonna’s hand raising up to cup Doc’s jawline. Her eyelids began to close, lips parting for the possibility.

“Earp?”

“Jesus, Mary, and that other guy!” Wynonna shouted, her hand falling flat to her chest as she whipped her head to find the Deputy Director staring at her. “Dolls…”

“For being a man of such stature, you move like a cat,” Doc snarled, obviously as thrown as her.

“Holiday,” Dolls nodded to the man doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t about to do what they nearly did. Her stick-up-the-ass boss sighed, his hands placed to his knees as he bent clean over to thrust that smug face into theirs. “You seem to be in quite the predicament. Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Wynonna said, “Just get us out of here.”

Slowly, Dolls rose up, a hand cupping his chin in thought. He eyed the old vending machine with his usual eagle-like focus. No doubt there was some magical BBD exploding pen or paperclip that could break it open. As he was about to open his mouth, the old clock on the wall chimed five times, then a cuckoo wearing a cop uniform shot out.

A smile rose on Dolls’ face, “Looks like it’s quitting time.”

“You can’t be…” Wynonna sighed, well aware of her boss’ love of making her squirm. When he kept walking, she scrabbled to get her feet under her as he waltzed over to his office. “Where are you going? Dolls!”

He appeared with a coat over his arm, barely glancing at her.

“What?” she scoffed, “You got a date or something?”

“Something,” he said in his usual noncommittal way.

“You can’t leave us in here,” Wynonna shouted, her eyes wide. She tried to reach for Peacemaker, but her drawing hand was stuck inside the stupid machine.

Dolls tipped his head to them, “I’m certain we can arrive at a solution come morning.”

“Morning? That’s… Dolls. Dolls! You can’t do this! What are we going to do in here for fourteen hours?!”

He smiled, “I’d suggest using the time to reflect upon your tendency to leap before you look, Earp. Next time it might get you killed. Good evening.” The bastard strode out of the station without a single look back. Just before he vanished out the door, his arm snaked in and flicked off the light. Darkness, save the unsettling glow off the vending machine, swarmed them.

“I’m gonna kill him. Just...What’s the sentence for killing your boss? Like, what, a misdemeanor? No jury would convict. Not if I fed him to a revenant or something,” Wynonna was babbling to herself when she realized Doc was being particularly quiet.

Her eyes twisted to him just as a gun barrel drifted into the line of her nose. “Darling,” he said, “I suggest you hold real still. I’m not at the best angle here.” With one eye closed, Doc lined up his shot away from her face, and pulled the trigger. Wynonna heard the bullet bounce off of something, then ping into the glass of the machine. Cracks formed over the surface like thin ice in spring. Before Doc could holster his smoking gun, she bashed her elbow into the glass, shattering it around them.

Ignoring the unsettling crunch of glass under their feet, both Wynonna and Doc easily unstuck their arms by reaching inside through the now convenient hole. She picked up the errant chips that started this mess and tossed them to Holliday. He opened the bag and held a single frito in between his fingers. After taking a sniff, he muttered, “I am uncertain if I will even enjoy these.”

Wynonna laughed, her arms stuffed full with every candy bar she could grab. Using her teeth, she ripped open a bag of twizzlers, and bit down on one. With the red whip dangling from her lips like a cigarette, she asked, “Wanna go destroy Dolls’ office?”

A smile instantly brightened Doc’s shadowed face. Tipping his hat to her, he said, “A woman after my own heart.”


End file.
